


The Wolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb

by DemonsDaughter



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Injury, Injury Recovery, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Sticky, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter
Summary: The battle on the bell tower concludes with Claude Frollo escaping the hand of death. Determined to make Esmeralda his own, Claude begins to court the gypsy woman with the hope she will see reason and willingly become his wife. Trapped in the Court of Justice with nowhere left to run and no one to rescue her, Esmeralda steels herself for the hard choices she will be forced to make.





	1. Chapter 1

Paris was burning. Hell had opened its fiery maw to consume the city, this red-hot destruction appearing hand-in-hand with uncontrolled passion. Born from desire and lust, the city bowed under the force of a lover scorned. 

Claude Frollo could hear the pulsing of blood in his ears as he charged through the door of the bell tower onto the balcony. His expression was feral with the need for revenge, hair disheveled as the warm, smokey wind ruffled it out of place. He didn’t appear to notice the red haze made by smoke and fire as Paris burned below him. His hunt for the gypsy had ravaged miles, consuming homes and businesses in the hopes to force Esmeralda from her hiding place and into his arms.

“No, you can’t have her!” Quasi shouted, carrying the prone form of Esmeralda out of reach from the robed priest. Claude snarled, gnashing his teeth like some kind of wild beast that was just inches from its prey. He immediately gave chase up the last flight of stairs to the very top of the church spire. 

“Give me Esmeralda!”

After all that searching and demanding he had found her at last. Claude was ready to reclaim what should have been his from the day she tempted him at the Festival. Quasimodo had blocked the way to his goals one too many times and Claude intended to put the poor monster out of his misery. There was no use to him anymore—he had become a wretched hinderance. 

On top of the church tower Claude paused to listen for movement, anticipating a counterattack. Readying to pounce before the enemy did, the skinny yet agile man leapt from his place of concealment with his sword at the ready. No one was there, the space in front of him empty. Where had they gone?! There was nowhere to hide outside of the bell tower. Unless…

Claude brightened when he remembered how his charge had enjoyed climbing along the outside of the cathedral. He had not seen the creature do so recently, but it made sense that he would try to escape over the side of the building. Clever, but not clever enough. Claude had raised the boy and knew easily sorted out what the most logical answer was. 

Peering over the side of the bell tower Claude chuckled darkly when he spotted Quasimodo and Esmerelda, the pair clinging to a gargoyle statue. He grinned, a perfect set of teeth bared in a vicious smile. He wanted Quasi dead and would revel in the sight of his demise. But the fate of Esmerelda…she was worth sparing. If she would not choose him on her own free will he would simply take her and convince the woman she deserved his affections.

Inching his way out onto the precipice of the tower he raised the sword he had taken from one of his fallen soldiers and made to bring it down on Quasi’s arm. The hunchback leapt out of the way, swinging to another gargoyle with only a scratch to show for the attack. Claude’s expression became even more wild, his eyes following the two like a ermine would stare at a wounded rabbit as it sought a place to hide or run. 

Sadly for the rabbit there was nowhere left to go. He was cornered. 

Sheathing the sword Claude boldly reached out to grab Esmeralda’s wrist as Quasimodo leapt to another gargoyle statue, yanking the woman with a mighty heave over the side of the bell tower to spare her from sharing Quasi’s fate. She gasped at the surprising force withheld in a man of Claude’s stature. He always appeared somewhat sickly from his pencil-thin form, yet it was clear to her now the man was not sick in the slightest and possibly younger than his appearance indicated. 

“I shall now do what I should have done with you years ago. Your mother was first, dear boy, but fear not. You will meet her soon,” Claude hissed, unsheathing the sword once more so he could hack through the hunchback’s arm. 

Emseralda groaned softly, recovering from being thrown onto the unforgiving stone of the church. She was resilient but even a trained warrior would be forced to take a moment and catch their breath after having it so rudely knocked from their chest. Upon seeing Claude raise the sword she let out a cry for him to stop, surprised when the swordsman seemed to falter slightly.

Claude’s eyes met hers, his expression holding a ghost of softness. He wanted to please her, he wanted her to see that he was capable of clemency. Yet he could not stop in his plans to destroy Quasimodo, seeing as he would only become more difficult given time. The young man was far more intelligent than Claude had first thought and would prove to be a threat. 

A jerk on his robe made Claude keel dangerously off balance, his eyes widening with horror when he saw Quasi had latched onto his velvet robe in the brief moment his attention was on Esmeralda. With both hands wielding the broadsword there was little hope of the man regaining his former stance. The weapon was released in favor of finding purchase, the steel plummeting from the tower to the ground below. 

Claude knew he was following the sword’s path, slipping from his position atop the gargoyle. Hands clawed at the air as he fell, desperate to grasp something. He ended up finding cloth, Quasimodo’s green shirt his lifeline. The hunchback was calling for Esmeralda to help him up, strength failing him as he clung to the rough stone. 

“I’m coming, Quasi, give me your hand!” the gypsy’s voice called, her melodious voice bringing new life to Claude’s determination. He had to survive if only to see the beautiful woman again and finally make her his own. 

It was too late for Esmeralda to pull them up. Quasimodo’s strength failed him and suddenly Claude felt himself falling, the body of the hunchback tumbling through the air a few feet above him. The priest flailed for something, anything, to break his fall as the face of Esmeralda looked over the railing with unconcealed horror. 

‘I will live. I must live!’ Claude thought, wondering if he had a chance of salvation. He was falling to his death yet even in the face of God he fought, refusing the end. It was not yet his time and he would convince Heaven and Hell if he must. 

He heard a brief shout as Quasimodo met his end careening into one of the church’s many roofs, his body crashing into the brick and stone with a sickening crunch. The death was instant, a mere flash of pain before release. Claude’s mind whirled as much as his body as he fell, still trying to catch a glimpse of his sin named Esmeralda. 

Yelping from both pain and surprise when he suddenly landed on something, Claude thrashed as multicolored flags slapped at his face. He had careened into the many strung decorations that adored the city for the Festival of Fools, the ropes and cloth slowing the velocity of his plunge towards death. Claude sent a quick prayer to God in thanks, hoping he would be shown further mercy. He was still above ground and certainly still in harms way. His body slipped from the tangled grasp of the ropes, hands closing around air as Claude continued his descent towards earth.

The man suddenly hit firmer resistance than the streamers, slamming into what he presumed to have been a roof before he blacked out. Shockingly, the man had indeed plunged through a thatched roof which had cushioned his fall enough to prevent instant death and complete organ rupture. Becoming tangled in the streamers hung for the Festival of Fools only moments before had saved his life. 

The man was nowhere near unharmed when he came back to the realm of the conscious. Groaning, Claude tried to get up only to feel a stabbing, white-hot throb from his ribcage. Broken, no doubt. He tried to take a breath and coughed, nearly doubling over from the pain. Why was he smelling smoke? He turned his gaze towards the ceiling, feeling his hopes sink upon viewing flames. The house was unoccupied because it was in the path of the fires.

“No! I will not die here, not after surviving by God’s grace,” he muttered, forcing himself to stand despite the horrendous agony in his side and multiple other areas. His knee didn’t feel right but there was no help for it, the archdeacon realizing the longer he stayed in the burning building the worse his chances became of surviving the ordeal. 

Stumbling from the second floor the the stairwell, Claude struggled to limp down to safety. He could feel the growing heat of the fire above him, the thatched roof burning like kindling. In moments the ceiling was nothing but ravenous flames, hellfire consuming all it could reach. 

Claude was at the bottom of the stairs when he heard an ominous sound of wood crackling overhead. He looked up to see a support beam was starting to burn, the building close to full collapse. Steeling himself and ignoring the nearly debilitating pain he felt, the man lunged for the door to claw it open. The hot metal of the knob burned his hand, a short yell the only sound Claude made before he bullied his way outside. 

He was not going to be stopped. 

“It’s…Judge Frollo! Sir, how did you-”

“Nevermind that! Bring me a horse and a sword!” Claude wheezed, his deep voice silken even when he was pained. He did not waver nor show any sign of weakness. The small group of soldiers who had found him saluted and ran off to gather what he wanted just as a fire brigade moved in to douse the flames. 

The moment the fastest soldier brought him a weapon and a horse Claude mounted, his vision spotting from his wounds. His ribs felt like they were being crushed under a giant’s foot and his knee twisted off, but he had little time to think about such things. He had a former Captain of the Guard to kill and a gypsy woman to claim. Spurring he horse back towards the entrance of Notre Dame, Claude was pleased to find both Phoebus and Esmeralda were standing outside the building as he raced towards their position. 

They had thought he was dead and had let down their guard. Fools.

Claude did not make a victory roar or announce his presence. He simply forced the horse onward while he readied his sword to lop off Phoebus’ vile head. It would look far better separated from his body. Silver hair disheveled by the fall and brush with death, Claude appeared as a vengeful spirit sent by Lucifer himself. 

Phoebus turned just in time to duck from the blow of steel only to be bowled over and trampled by the horse. Claude wheeled the beast around with the skill of an experienced rider and made for Phoebus once more. Emseralda leapt in front of the fallen man, stubbornly unflinching as Claude closed the distance.

“Step aside!” he spat, slowing the horse to prevent running the woman into the ground alongside the guard. Esmeralda growled at him, lips curled back in a nasty snarl. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she vowed, fierce green eyes locking onto him. For all their strength they were watery with tears she could barely hold back. “You murdered Quasi! He’s dead because of you, you disgusting monster! You broke the sanctity of the church!”

“I came to save you from damnation, Esmeralda! Was I not the one who pulled you from the monster’s grip? You could have been the one to fall to your death. Be grateful for the chance to repent that I have granted you!”

Esmeralda lunged at Claude as he moved his horse forward, intending to make short work of Phoebus. The horse reared at the woman’s sudden movement, Claude fighting with the unfamiliar steed. His own horse would never have shied from threats but this one was not his own. The gypsy leapt out of the way of flailing hooves, forced to abandon her lover in favor of her own safety. The horse’s back foot slipped on some of the wet cobblestones and before Claude or the animal could recover the beast came crashing down on top of Phoebus and pinned Claude’s already damaged knee beneath it. 

A short howl ripped free from Claude’s throat as the flash of pain met him upon impact, the man throwing the reins away as he tried to claw his way out from under the beast. Esmeralda tried to lead the horse away from Phoebus although she knew there was little hope for him. The full weight of a horse had fallen right across his upper body and head—it would take a miracle for him to come out alive. 

“Phoebus!” she whispered, voice choked up from the sight of the blonde man’s demise. His crushed chest, his open yet unseeing eyes. He was gone already, internal trauma having caught up to him from first being trampled and subsequently being crushed. 

Rounding on Claude, Esmeralda screamed and latched onto his tattered black robe, yanking him towards the ground as sharp fingernails dug into his neck like the claws of a jungle cat. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to make him pay for what he had done to her friends, her people, his people…

“Do not make me angry with you,” Claude wheezed, grabbing ahold of Esmeralda’s thick raven hair and wrenching her away from his neck. She screeched, trying to pull away and fight him at the same time. Claude held fast, his determination and iron will the only thing keeping him from passing out right then and there.

“I’ll never give you anything you want. Never,” Esmeralda snarled as some of Claude’s elite guard arrived. 

“Sir! Shall we lock her in the dungeon?” 

“No…no, bring her to my guest quarters and lock her inside. Secure the other gypsies and stop the hunt for the girl. I want all the fires in the city snuffed out by the morning.”

“Yessir!”

Claude somehow found the strength to limp alongside the guard and Esmeralda, the woman fighting and kicking the entire way to the palace of justice. The silver haired man tried to ignore the curses directed at him, determined to make it back to his home so he could rest. His body was screaming for him to stop, to sit down, to take the weight off of his cracked ribs and damaged knee. At one point he had to reach out a ringed hand and clasp his guard’s shoulder for support. The man didn’t say a word about it, happy to allow the man who paid him generously to do as he liked. If he needed a living crutch, so be it. 

“Thank you, Eldred,” Claude panted when they finally made it up the flights of stairs to his quarters. “Put her in the guest room. I…must rest.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I summon a doctor?”

“Return to me in a few hours. I need time to think before my mind becomes addled with herbal remedies.”

“Understood. I will return in three hours.”

“Very good.”

With that the guard dragged Esmeralda to the guest room and locked her inside, the woman slamming her fists against the thick wooden door after she was released. Her emerald eyes were wide with fear, realizing she was trapped and completely alone. There was no chance that Quasi or Phoebus would come to help her with an escape attempt now. 

She was deep inside the lion’s den and had no clue how she would escape. Esmeralda feverishly ran to the window to see how high up she was and felt her hopes die upon viewing the drop. There was no easy way to clamber down, her fingers curling around the windowsill with frustration. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she ran a hand through her hair and fluffed it up, the nervous gesture one she always preformed when stressed. There was always a way, she just needed to take a moment to think and plan out her next move.

Steeling herself for whatever came next, Esmeralda bowed her head and sent a prayer to whatever god might be listening. 

May she be granted strength and steadfastness, confidence and courage, and the ability to endure.


	2. Chapter 2

Esmeralda remained slumped against the far wall of her new prison, eyes closed as she begged a god to answer her prayers. Please, let someone aid her in her time of need. She might be without friends and alone, but there was always hope. She clung to it as her only lifeline, the woman fiercely brushing away tears that threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes.

“Ah, Esmeralda! You look troubled, my dear girl. Is there anything you’d like—food, wine, decor? I will gladly send for more items if you wish to redecorate. This is merely a guest quarter,” Claude’s voice purred, deep and silken despite his many aches and pains. Esmeralda startled, eyes snapping open to see the silver-haired man was leaning in the doorway. 

The open doorway. 

Esmeralda bolted, hoping she could knock Claude down and make her escape. The man saw it coming, simply closing the door on her before she reached the entrance. 

“My, what terrible manners! I expected better of you.”

“Oh really? You thought one of the ‘gypsy vermin’ would be well mannered? You’re a joke,” Emeralda spat from the other side of the thick wooden door, the woman pacing in front of it like a caged tigress before she retreated back to the barred window. She could hear Claude from the hallway chuckle. 

“I know you are not like the others. You have proven that time and time again,” he replied, wincing when he felt his side rebel against the constant standing position. He needed to rest and take a look at his book of herbs. He’d need to sort out what would be best to take for his ailments. But first he would need to clean his burned hand and wrap it. 

Claude limped painfully back to his quarters where he took out a massive velum book, opening it to the contents page before searching for the cures he would need. Once he had them sorted out he’d summon the healer and get the process going. He needed to heal as soon as possible in order to tame the wild creature he now had locked inside his miniature palace. 

Esmeralda. The glorious woman was now his at last. She had no way of escaping, a well-groomed digit sliding across the page of the carefully scrawled herb book. It stopped on an irrelevant plant as his thoughts wandered. How was he going to handle this defiant gypsy? It would surely not be a fast or simple process, that much he knew. 

He did not want her to loathe him any more than she already did, deducing that harsh physical punishments were not to be used. Plus he didn’t want to break her fully. That would destroy who she was, the fire in the gypsy drawing Claude to her almost more than her stunning appearance. Claude hummed softly to himself, imagining what the best course of action would be. 

A wandering hand moved between the folds of his thick robe, the fabric scented like ash from the fire. Claude didn’t bother to take it off it yet, the item something he did not like to be without. Claude felt a growing stiffness between his legs, brushing the warm palm of his hand across his clothed length. In the moment his fear of sin was forgotten, urged only by lust and the Devil's manipulative whispers.

Deft fingers slipped between the rim of his thin pants to fully grip himself, feeling his cock stiffen eagerly under his touch. God, how much he longed for her! A tiny sigh escaped as he languidly stroked across the soft skin, the head weeping a bead of prefluid to ease his hand’s gliding movements. His eyes closed, the image of Esmeralda’s bare shoulders and nearly exposed cleavage causing his hand to tighten its grip…

Claude startled when there was a sudden knock on the door, letting out a sharp hiss when his broken ribs flared with pain upon the jerking movement backwards. His hand instantly retracted from his pants, the man quick to rearrange his robes so there was no sign of what sin he had committed a moment before. The door opened a moment later, the doctor scurrying in with a nervous Eldred hovering behind him. 

“He said he wouldn’t wait a moment, Sir. He insisted on tending to you,” he said weakly, shoulders slumping when he saw how Claude glowered. 

“Very well, you are dismissed. And thank you for alerting him so quickly, I suppose.”

“Yessir!” Eldred barked, saluting crisply now that his mood was restored. Claude knew how to maneuver the man, his favored bodyguard much like a loyal canine. Praise fed his loyalty rather than aggression. 

“Ah, I see you were already consulting your herb book. Never mind that, I have already brought everything I need,” the elderly man chattered, taking out a vile of some clear liquid and then a rudimentary splint and wrap. “Drink this whole thing.”

“Milk of the poppy?”

“Indeed. It will help you rest.”

Claude reluctantly uncapped the small bottle, pouring the contents back into his throat. It tasted faintly of poppy but mostly bitter, the man making a sour face. He didn’t even register that he was being led away towards his lavish bed, the doctor urging him to lay down. 

“Off comes the robe. I need to see how your ribs fared from the fall.”

“How did you know my ribs were damaged?”

“Eldred is a wonderful man. He explained your condition and I could understand from his descriptions what was needed.”

Claude huffed, shedding his thick robe and ignoring the softening bulge between his legs that the doctor would surely notice. Thankfully the other man didn’t mention it, focusing on the horribly swollen knee. Claude forced himself not to pull the limb out of reach, showing his teeth briefly like some kind of cornered animal when it was touched. 

“I’ll wait for the poppy,” the doctor decided, wanting Claude mostly asleep before he did the binding of his leg. He’d be howling otherwise. 

“Will I be able to ride?”

“I believe so, Sir. I will do my best to set the joint correctly. Then it is in God’s hands.”

Claude soon began to slip away under the influence of the crude opium, sides rising and falling slowly as he drifted off to an induced sleep. The doctor waited until he was sure the other man was unconscious before moving his leg and testing the knee joint. It still worked but it needed to remain stationary lest the joint completely slip from weight. Muttering each step to himself as he set the splint, the doctor did his best to help his employer ride again once he was healed. He knew how much Claude adored his horse and was determined to offer the best chance of full recovery. 

Once he was finished with the wounded leg he gingerly touched Claude’s side, testing the ribs. A few were broken while others were merely cracked. He set them as best he could so they would heal, simply pushing the broken ones back to where they should be. Claude groaned from the discomfort even in forced sleep. The doctor apologized and moved his hand away, leaving the chest unwrapped as it would only hamper Claude’s slightly unsteady breathing.

Bowing once, the doctor packed up his small bag and the empty vile of poppy extract, hurrying off to leave Claude to his dreams. He paused at the door of the huge room and debated whether or not he should leave some serums for the other man to prepare for pain should he wake up. Deciding Claude would appreciate the gesture, the doctor left a small pouch of herbs that could be mixed with water to help ease the aches when he woke up. 

With that done he left, closing the door quietly behind him while Claude Frollo lay motionless on his bed.

*****

Claude’s dreams were hazy shapes and muffled sounds, the man trying to conjure something recognizable in his drugged slumbers. The efforts to imagine Esmeralda in his arms were thwarted by the blazing sun as it rose and filtered through the open windows. He had failed to shut the curtains the night before and now was paying the price.

Grumbling when he woke, the smokey dream-vision of Esmeralda slipping from his hold, Claude snarled when he tried to sit up and was forced to lay back down from pain. Good Lord, his side hurt. Rubbing his tired face, Claude wheezed softly as he slowly shifted to sit upright against the pillows. He spotted the neatly left herbal remedy on his desk, deciding he’d make it right away with some tea before visiting his little pet.

The fireplace inside the room still had an ember in it, Claude moving to stoke it and add some new wood. It blazed to life again, warming the room and his kettle. The water boiled and was soon poured into a cup along with the tea-like mixture from the pouch. Taking a hesitant sip, Claude gagged at the taste. The mint leaves didn’t disguise the bitterness. They never did.

‘Now, to see my gypsy woman,’ he mused, stiffly setting the cup down before he limped awkwardly to his door, bound leg causing him to hobble. 

Donning his second black velvet cloak that was not marred with ash and burns, Claude shuffled over to the guest room where Esmeralda was staying. He knocked on the door before entering, stepping inside with the key carefully tucked in his robe pocket. 

“Good morning, my dear. How did you enjoy your first night?” he inquired, eyes widening when he didn’t see the woman at all, a startled chuff escaping him just as he felt a brush of air tickle the back of his neck. He swiftly shoved the door shut, the escape route locking with a click before something heavy collided with his head. 

Snarling from the blow, Claude stumbled lamely to the floor to see that Esmeralda had somehow perched above the doorway and had pounced on him when he entered, a large dictionary held in her hands as a weapon. What a clever witch. 

“A valiant effort but now you have locked us both inside this room,” he sneered, rubbing his aching head after he snatched his fallen hat from the floor. He seated it back on his silver hair, adjusting it carefully. Then he began the process of getting up, splinted leg making that incredibly difficult. 

“What do you mean?! I am not stuck in here because you surely have a key,” Esmeralda snarled lunging at Claude to discover the item that would free her. He met her attack, feeling sharp nails digging into his wrists as she pulled at his cloak and tried to dislodge the key. 

He would never admit it but the whole ordeal was incredibly arousing…

“You fool, the door locks only from the outside! You have trapped yourself with your enemy,” Claude sneered, offering her the key but keeping hold of her wrist with one hand. “Now help me up so we can converse as civil beings.”

“Civil? You have been nothing but barbaric!” Esmeralda spat, shoving Claude backwards the moment she snagged the key. One of her palms landed on his wounded side, a short snarl-yelp escaping the normally silent man.

Esmeralda seemed to falter at the sound, eyes wide as she watched Claude clutch at his side with a bandaged hand. She pushed the sight aside though, deciding it was better to find a way out before he recovered. Only when she turned to the door did she believe her captor was correct. The door could only unlock from the outside. 

“How dare you trap me in here! I’ll find a way out yet, you just wait,” she promised, flipping her raven hair back over one shoulder. Claude wheezed, inching back towards the bed. 

“I have no doubt, gypsy witch,” he panted, seeing a few black spots dotting his vision. Claude ignored them, moving to claw his way onto the bed. “Now, tell me…more about….your-…..self…”

Esmeralda didn’t realize she was moving to Claude’s side when he began to keel over backwards, breathing labored as he exerted himself to much in the effort to stand. In doing so he had passed out, his body unable to take any more abuse or strain.

‘Such a proud man,’ Esmeralda thought as she caught him under the arms before he crashed onto the unforgiving floor. Grunting from the effort to move his surprisingly heavy body, Esmeralda helped heave Claude onto the bed. His body was limp now, completely vulnerable and helpless. 

For a few moments Esmeralda debated killing him. She could easily strangle or stifle him and he likely wouldn’t feel anything or know what had happened. The thoughts disturbed her though, the woman turning her gaze away. No, she was not a monster like he was. She knew the meaning of mercy. 

“Just my luck,” Esmeralda muttered, although her caring nature did make her feel some worry. She hadn’t meant to hit his head that hard, just enough to stun him so she could get out the door. 

A nervous hand reached out to pull off his hat, brushing some silky silver hair from a forming lump. Wincing, Esmeralda hovered at her enemy’s bedside. Now she was confined in a room with the man who was lusting after her and had murdered all of her friends and her people. Esmeralda had no idea how long Claude would be unconscious, nor did she know when someone would come to rescue them from the makeshift prison.


	3. Chapter 3

Esmeralda was not sure if she was pleased when she heard Claude groan and begin to shift positions or if she was terrified. Her captor was alive (which she was glad for even though he was a vile demon straight out of Hell), yet he was also a potential threat. Backing well out of reach, she stiffened up and waited to see what the archdeacon might do. 

‘He’s not going to hurt me. He’s got burned hands, a bound leg, and his side is broken. He can’t do anything to me. In fact, I’m the one in control of the situation,’ Esmeralda told herself, the thought emboldening her to morph a nervous expression into a stern frown. She would not be intimidated by this old man any longer! 

Meanwhile, completely unaware of Esmeralda’s thoughts, Claude whined quietly as he tried to sit up. His side was throbbing and now he had a headache, eyes slowly refocusing to find he was in the guest room on the bed. Mahogany eyes soon fixed the gypsy in their sights, Claude appearing somewhat startled by her presence. Then his memory recovered and he remembered what had occurred before he had passed out. 

“Stay where you are,” Esmeralda commanded when she saw Claude trying to sit up. He glowered at her, stern eyebrows furrowed with both pain and determination. 

“I prefer to sit up when conversing with others. I am not an invalid, although I have certainly undergone some tests from the Lord recently,” he muttered back, forcing himself to sit up against the pillows. Esmeralda watched his chest heave from the effort, noticing with each breath Claude seemed to flinch from the pain.

“You look the part of an invalid,” Esmeralda growled, leaning on the far wall as she glared. “How long will you be in here?”

“Until Eldred comes to check on me. He won’t be to long,” Claude assured, knowing well that the leader of his Elite Guard would come trotting up the stairs when he thought he was ‘allowed’ to say good-morning to his employer. 

“Good. The less time I have to spend in here looking at you the better.”

Claude returned her insult with nothing more than a deadpan stare. 

“Esmeralda, I have rescued you from the sins of your people! I have done nothing but try to protect you from the evils of this world and this is how you thank me for all my troubles?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. Esmeralda fumed, unable to believe what she was hearing come out of his mouth. 

“You can’t be serious! You have done nothing but hurt everyone I care about! You persecute the innocent for nothing more than trying to support themselves! And yet you have the boldness to lay there and tell me that you are ‘protecting’ me?! You are disgusting and I will never offer you anything. You’ll never get the chance to abuse me like everyone else.”

“Your former friends put you in harms way. They wanted you to rebel against me when in reality if you had just come on your own accord all troubles could have been avoided.”

Esmeralda refused to speak after that, turning his gaze away from the silver-haired man across the room. She was going to wait until this Eldred fellow arrived and effectively rescued her. 

“What province are you from originally?” Claude asked after a long break of silence, his deep voice curios about his captured prize.

“I won’t tell you anything,” she retorted, crossing her arms across her round breasts. Claude’s eyes stared, the man forcing them away after he got more control over himself. Esmeralda noticed, realization setting in what had caused the staring. 

“Disgusting,” she spat, turning her back on him completely. Claude didn’t answer, suffering in silence. He was not only combatting her but also his carnal desires. 

Claude had never wanted to give in to the passions that were so common to the mobs, to allow the nagging, ever-constant feeling that he was unfulfilled consume his thoughts and actions. As time had gone on he slowly began to realize how deeply lost he truly was and how there was no simple escape from his ‘urges.’ They were here to stay and the Devil had gripped him tightly within his scarlet, blood stained claws. 

“Esmeralda, I wish to merely speak with you,” he finally said, the unsteadiness in his own voice surprising him when he heard it. It was faint, weak, unsure. None of the qualities one would normally associate with the rather fierce man. Even Esmeralda felt the change in his tone, although the woman keept her facade of disinterest as a shield in case Claude was only playing games. She would not give him the pleasure of a reaction just yet. 

“I’m listening,” she stated curtly, although she did not turn to meet his gaze. It wouldn’t do her any good to look a wolf in the eyes. 

Claude swallowed dryly, a ringed hand rubbing across his hollowed face. “Do you have a preference for breakfast? Once Eldred arrives I will send for someone to bring you a meal.”

The harmless question took Esmeralda completely off guard, the woman spinning around to face her wounded captor. Her eyes burned with ferocious green fire, face curled into a nasty snarl. “Do you really think that after all you’ve done things are going to be made right by simple conversation?! You’re a damned fool, Frollo. No wonder you locked yourself in here with me—you’re stupid!”

Claude growled softly, curling a thin lip. “You are rash, girl. I could teach you so many things and yet you refuse to allow yourself to be taught!” 

“What did you ever plan on teaching me? All you’ve done thus far is kill my friends, lock me away in some dingy tower, and stare at me like some kind of food at the market! I hate it here, it’s dark and cold. It’s nothing like the places I used to live. The countryside is what I long for and you have stolen it all from me! Is that what makes you happy?! To gaze upon me like a captive, tortured animal?!”

The man on the bed was silent, his face set in a stern yet pensive expression. Esmeralda scoffed at him, pacing a few times as she tried to find a place to escape from his sight. With him commandeering the bed she was driven from that area and had nowhere else to sit. Considering the writing desk and chair were too close to the bed for comfort she had no choice but to remain where she was. Esmeralda had to make do with leaning up against a far wall, eyes watching Claude’s frame like those of a cautious feline tensed to flee should the other creature make a move.

“I intend to teach you the ways of the Lord and save your soul from damnation,” Claude replied, truly believing that that was what he would do. If Esmeralda renounced her pagan ways and committed herself to a Christian life she would be saved and they could live together in happiness.

“You have already committed sins enough to send you to Hell twice over! And here you expect me to learn anything from you?” Esmeralda demanded, fixing Claude’s eyes with her own in challenge. She could see an insecurity flicker across Claude’s face and decided to continue. There was a weakness, an insecurity, and Esmeralda saw her chance to offer a new perspective. 

“Your God teaches you to love, to accept, to help those who cannot help themselves. Yet you torment my people for nothing other than their differences from you. Their skin may be darker than your own and their ways foreign, but are we not people? Are we not mankind together? You caged Quasimodo for years and degraded him for his deformities…how would your God look upon you when all he sees is cruelty and spite?”

Claude did not answer, although he did not continue to match her gaze. In a silent moment of defeat, he turned his eyes away in silence. He had known long before this that he would not be granted mercy when his day of judgement arrived. His lust had overtaken him and the claws of Lucifer were tightly wrapped around his throat. Esmeralda was simply another vile sin he could place next to the others. A trophy for the damned. 

A knock came on the door and the familiar voice of Eldred rang out. “Frollo? Sir, are you in there? I’ve been looking for you to ask about your horse-”

“Eldred, I am in need of assistance. I need you to gather the locksmith for me. I am afraid the gypsy trapped me within these confines and as you know there is no lock on the inner part of this door,” Claude replied, hoping he sounded commanding. Even so, an eyebrow raised with curiosity at the mention of his horse. “What, pray tell, have you to say about Vesuvius?”

“He bit the new stable boy, Sir. He came away with a bloodied hand.”

“I will tend to Vesuvius. No others shall touch him besides you and myself. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. I will make sure to let them know as soon as I can get you out of there. Is the witch going to try something? I know she has a lot of spells up her sleeves,” Eldred replied, the Elite guardsman currently looking around for something he could use to pick the lock. 

He hadn’t always been an Elite guardsman. Before that time he had been employed in a darker occupation. He made a face as his hand searched many hidden pockets for the tools he needed.

“Witch?” Esmeralda scoffed, giving Claude a disapproving glower. “Did you convince that poor man that I was a witch?”

“You are indeed a sorceress of some kind,” Claude replied, shrugging as best he could in his condition. “He would do well to keep his distance from you.”

“You’re disgusting,” she shot back, wishing she could think of a way to get out of her predicament. Surely there would be a way.

Eldred continued to fumble around outside the thick wooden door, the lock jingling as he started to probe it with some of his personal lock picking equipment. He always carried the tiny kit around just in case. Sometimes Claude scared him with his temper and if he ended up in the dungeon someday he was determined not to stay for long. A former assassin was not to be held back behind stone walls.

“I almost have it…” he muttered, perking up when he felt the lock catch. With a few flicks of his wrist he was inside, posturing to make sure Esmeralda did not attempt to storm past him. When he saw the woman looked harmless and had left Claude alone…on the bed, which was a bit odd…he lowered his guard a fraction. 

“Very good, Eldred. You never disappoint,” Claude said, trying his best to get off the bed. He did so after much effort and waving away his guard. “No, no. Stand by the door so the woman does not try some little trick.”

Esmeralda didn’t know what to do, debating whether or not she could move fast enough around Eldred to escape. He was a big man, likely over six feet tall and built like a brick all. His strong build would mean he was not as agile as a smaller person and perhaps he would not have the reaction to her moving fast enough to grab her. 

She bolted. 

Esmeralda lunged for the open doorway, dropping to the floor at the last minute to avoid being snatched up in Eldred’s arms. She used her dress to help her slide around the Elite Guard, a smile spreading across her face when she saw freedom so close to her grasp. 

“Sorry, M’lady. Claude asked me to keep you here and I have to follow my orders!” Eldred exclaimed, somehow whirling around fast enough to grab Esmeralda’s dress as she tried to dart past. The fabric made an ominous ripping sound but did not pull off of her as the guard easily hauled her back into the room. 

By that time Claude had made it to his feet and was limping stiffly to the door. He had felt his heart race upon seeing the gypsy woman trying to flee and nearly managing to escape, followed by a rush of relief when Eldred captured Esmeralda in time. She was still his…for now.

“Thank you, Eldred. I believe I owe you a fine bottle of wine for your work,” Claude hummed, motioning for his guard to follow him out. “Esmeralda, do you have a breakfast preference or shall I have the kitchen servants make you whatever they like?”

Esmeralda said nothing in reply, feeling her eyes burn with tears upon being pushed lightly back into her prison cell. She did not belong here! She wanted nothing more than to be free and those horrible men were locking her away. Esmeralda had never felt so alone. 

“Very well,” Claude sniffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I will have them send you something of their choosing. I will check in on you later.”

With that Claude limped away and Eldred shut the door behind him. Outside Esmeralda could hear Claude praise his lackey and promise him two-hundred silver pieces and twenty-five gold for his swift actions and speed to rescue him from the room. Eldred laughed that he was always happy to serve and his heavy footsteps could be heard lumbering off down the hallway. 

After returning to his own quarters, Claude took a moment to steady himself. He needed to think about what his next action would be. He knew what he chose to do with Esmeralda would dictate how their relationship developed. Pondering the best course of action, Claude finally came to a plan that he hoped would make the woman happy.

Calling for the servants to bring Esmeralda and himself breakfast, he slowly sat down at his desk to compose a letter to the woman who loathed to speak to him. His prose was elegant and well-educated, the words rolling from the ink quill onto the page. Soon he had blown the ink dry, folded the letter, and place it in an envelope. Sealing it his signet ring and some hot golden wax, he rose painfully to slip it under the door of the guest quarters. 

Esmeralda spotted the letter as it was carefully slipped under the crack in the door. At first she did not want to collect it, but her curiosity got the better of her. Soon she had crept forward and picked up the strange message. Opening the seal and pulling out the parchment, her eyes widened at the offer. Despite all her best efforts to refuse the gift, she ended up folding the letter back up and sliding it under the door as had been instructed. Then she waited for the servants to bring breakfast, planning just as Claude did in the opposite room.


	4. Chapter 4

Esmeralda watched the pigeons outside her window, tracing their flight patterns as they crisscrossed through the sky and around the many spires of the Palace of Justice. 

‘More like they’re flying around my prison,’ Esmeralda thought grimly, wringing her hands before she turned to the thick wooden door that kept her from the outside world. At least her captor had offered her a possible way out through his letter.

She paced once before settling heavily on the side of the bed. ‘Why would he write me a letter, anyway? He can speak, he could have just told me,’ she thought, shaking her head. She would never understand the man. One moment he was demanding her to ‘repent’ and then the next he was quietly asking what she liked to eat. It was surreal and frankly quite ludicrous. 

A knock sounded at the door and Esmeralda knew instantly it was the servants bringing her a morning meal. Eldred’s heavy footsteps followed and then the jingling of the key in the lock. The door opened and a rolling cart was pushed inside, the ornate display making Esmeralda wonder why Frollo would spend money on such trivial things and yet show no interest in ostentatious displays outside of his dwelling. 

She quietly thanked the servant girl for bringing the food, unable to resist the biscuits and assorted fruits. Before she could stop herself from taking gifts handed to her by the devil himself, Esmeralda hungrily ate the offerings, having remembered she had not eaten since the morning of the day before. Setting down the steaming cup of tea there was another knock on the door. 

“M’lady Esmeralda, are you finished with your meal?”

“Yes, Eldred. Thank you,” Esmeralda replied, watching the door open and fill with the hulking form of Frollo’s favorite guardsman. 

Eldred happily went about the task of collecting the cart and then motioned for Esmeralda to follow him out. “Claude asked me to show you out to the first floor. He had some business he had to attend to so he couldn’t bring you himself.”

“I would much rather be as far from him as possible,” Esmeralda replied, eager to escape the confines of the small room. She didn’t try to run, knowing that the deceptively fast guard would catch her as he had done earlier. Anything to please his employer.

As she walked beside the towering tree of a man, Esmeralda’s curiosity urged her to ask some questions and collect as much information as she could from the guard. She also made sure to take in her surroundings, making sure she memorized as much of the building as possible. 

“Why do you work for him? He is a cruel man,” she finally asked, getting right to the point. Eldred seemed to have been daydreaming about something, hazel eyes distant before the young woman had spoken and jolted him out of his daze. 

“Claude? He was merciful to me but I know he does have a fearsome reputation,” Eldred replied, glancing down at Esmeralda as they walked down the many flights of stairs.

“What do you mean? He has no shred of mercy in him from what I’ve witnessed. I’m just a trophy yet for all of my people he sees nothing but thieves, heathens, and people who must be exterminated because we are different.”

Emerald eyes watched every movement in Eldred’s face as he listened to what she said, Esmeralda pleased to see there was a grimace there. Good. At least she knew this man had morals and did not blindly follow his master. But then why would he work for such a vile man when he clearly knew the difference between right and wrong? What made him loyal to a murderer?

A calloused hand moved to stroke his thick chestnut beard, Eldred pondering how he wanted to answer. It was a hard question and he knew how much Claude wanted the woman to adore him. It would be hard to achieve such a thing when he did indeed persecute her entire race and treat them like nothing better than animals.

“I personally know his mercy, but I have also personally seen his cruelty. I think the best way to answer you is to give him a chance to know you for you. He sees the world as the enemy but sometimes special people can get through to him,” Eldred said, nodding once as if to tell himself he had done the best he could for an answer. Esmeralda continued to fix the large man in her gaze, squinting slightly as she considered what he had said. 

“I have no interest in letting him ‘get to know me.’ I loathe him.”

Eldred nodded in understanding. 

“I know you do,” he answered, holding open a door for the woman as they made it to the second floor of the palace. “I believe Claude is very familiar with hate—hatred from others and hatred he directs towards himself.”

“He is a man of power. He has no reason to hate himself unless you’re implying he has a conscious. And if that is the case I would beg to differ. He has no such thing,” Esmeralda shot back, tossing her thick raven hair over one shoulder. Eldred chuffed. 

“He does feel something. It is just…difficult to discern what.”

Eldred walked calmly out of the Palace of Justice and out into the strangely empty street, surprisingly placid despite the fact that his captive could attempt to run off in any direction she chose. It told Esmeralda that the man was more than capable of catching her again, his relaxed stance one of a well trained soldier despite his outward air of oblivion. 

The pair walked in silence the rest of the way to the large building a few blocks from the Palace of Justice. The sound of nickering horses and loud snorts could be heard the moment Eldred unlocked the royal stable door, the thick wooden barricade swinging wide to reveal well kept stalls with prized horses living in them. These beasts were the best of the best.

“Claude is waiting for you at the other end of the stable.”

Eldred motioned with his head for Esmeralda to move forward, the hulking man already turning back to the entrance. 

“Thank you, Eldred,” Esmeralda said, giving the man a small wave. He grinned, showing off a set of crowded yet white teeth.

“You’re very welcome, M’lady.”

With that Eldred wandered off, shutting the door of the stables behind him. Esmeralda felt her heart flutter, wondering if this was her chance. She could steal one of the horses and make a run for it. There was no way Eldred could catch her on horseback if she got a head start.

“Ah, there you are. Come along, I wish to show you the horses that are for sale. These are already spoken for,” Claude’s silken smooth voice said, shattering any hopes Esmeralda had conjured up about escaping. Freedom was taken from her grasp yet again.

“And here I was hoping you couldn’t limp your way down here,” Esmeralda hissed, sizing up the older man. He stood proudly despite his wounds, his face displaying no signs of giving in. She had to give him that—he was a determined bastard. 

Claude ignored her ire. “Do you want a horse or not? I know you gypsies typically steal everything but I will make you into a proper woman with time. We buy things that we want inside this city.”

“How dare you-”

“Follow me,” Claude interrupted, turning on his heel as best he could before he limped down the rows of stalls. One huge black horse stuck his head out of his stall window, trying to bump Claude’s shoulder as he passed. “Stop that. I will give you an apple when I return, Vesuvius.”

Claude did spend a moment rubbing the huge warhorse’s nose, the normally fearsome beast completely at ease with his master. When Esmeralda approached rose petal ears flicked back with aggression and Vesuvius stopped his front leg. 

“She is never to be harmed. You are hers as much as you are mine,” Claude snapped, holding Vesuvius’ face in his hands until the aggressive behavior ceased. Finally the beast’s ears returned to a normal position and he snorted at Esmeralda.

“What kind of horse is he?” Esmeralda asked, having been curiously watching the strange bond between the two beings. It appeared Claude did have a soft spot somewhere, although a horse was not a great start. He still frequently murdered the innocent and patting his own steed wasn’t going to impress the woman much.

“He is a destrier. I have never been more pleased to have found him,” Claude replied, a tiny ghost of a smile on his lips. “He serves me well. And to think they were going to give in and use him for hauling war carts! They were too afraid to tame him and make him a proper riding horse.”

Esmeralda said nothing, merely taking in what Claude said. There was certainly a level of affection he felt towards his horse. That was…a good sign. At least he was capable of some emotions besides spite and ruthlessness. 

“Here begins the adult horses who have not been chosen yet. They are all for sale and you may have whichever one you wish. Simply say the word and it is yours,” Claude hummed, glancing over at Esmeralda. 

He watched as the tension in her body began to relax ever so slightly, her green eyes widening when she saw the prices displayed on each stall and then staring in awe at the horses within. Rare colors and breeds were on display and one of them would soon be her own. 

“You will not win me over with your money. I don’t care how rich you are,” she made sure to mutter as she slipped past Claude, having felt his presence come too close as she admired a dapple mare. Claude inhaled sharply but didn’t retort. He preferred to pick his battles and this one was hardly worth the effort. 

The older man watched as Esmeralda moved from stall to stall, reaching out to touch each horse before she would appear to think and then move on. Claude had no idea how she was deciding which creature she wanted but he would not interfere as the woman danced across the ground as if walking on air. Esmeralda was the most graceful woman he had ever had the privilege to meet. 

She was his now. He would need to do everything in his power to make her happy, the minister promising to do just that as he soaked up her beaming presence. 

“I think this one is the right horse,” Esmeralda finally said, hugging the nose of a pinto buckskin mare. Claude approached slowly, admiring the horse’s white and fawn coloration. He didn’t want to spook the creature, watching the horse’s big brown eyes watching him closely. 

“She is a beautiful horse,” Claude hummed, reaching out to touch the beast’s cheek. The horse allowed the petting, bumping her nose into Esmeralda’s chest. “And what will you name her?” 

“Briya. A name from my people.”

Claude nodded once, deciding he didn’t mind the name. It would do well for the spirited yet gentle mare, his hand petting Briya’s cheek a few more times before he pulled away and limped to the horse seller who had been trailing the couple from a distance in hopes Claude would indeed purchase an expensive animal. 

“How much for the mare?”

Esmeralda didn’t listen to anything else that was said, focused purely on Briya. She missed Djali terribly and wondered what had become of him. Hopefully Clopin had rescued the little goat from the greedy, hungry hands of the soldiers and the mob as the city burned. That was the most she could hope for now. Everyone else had been taken away and she prayed at least her beloved pet had been spared. 

She was lost in a daze of thought when a hand startled her out of the daydreams, big emerald eyes going wide when they focused on Claude. 

“The horse-Pardon me, Briya- is now yours. You own her and may keep her here in this building or move her to my personal stable. Vesuvius was boarding here during the fires simply because I feared the other barn might burn. He prefers his large stall there.” “She’d like to get out of here, I’m sure,” Esmeralda said quietly, surprised that Claude would want to save anyone, even if it was only his own horse. There was a sense that he really did care for the animal, Esmeralda squinting at the silver-haired man as if examining him more closely. 

Maybe there was more to the murderer than she once thought. 

Her suspicions that Claude was not entirely evil were confirmed when she saw the broken, aching man insist on opening Vesuvius’ stall and take the beast’s bridle, the huge warhorse emerging from his little cell and tossing his head in celebration. A hint of a smile crossed Claude’s face, the man saying something to the black stallion before clicking his tongue and urging the brute of a horse along. “Follow me, Esmeralda.”

‘Now he uses my name. What a strange man,’ she thought, although she did as she was told and collected Briya’s halter. The poor mare would surely enjoy it when she could go to the other barn and have the bit taken out of her mouth. 

Claude didn’t seem worried that Esmeralda would try to escape, the woman realizing that Eldred was probably close by and would snatch her up the second she bolted like he had before. She’d have to bide her time and wait until she was out riding to try and run. 

The barn that Claude led her to was very impressive but not gaudy or ornate. It was well built and large, each stall offering a large amount of space in between. Another mare was already in a stall, the horse neighing loudly at the new company. 

“Who’s that?” “Cara, Eldred’s horse. It means ‘friend’ in Celtic, or so he tells me. She is the ‘friend’ to his stallion Empyrean,” Claude said, patting the soft nose of the horse as he passed. “She’s expecting a foal.” 

The white and gray mare was indeed quite round when Esmeralda peered into her stall, smiling.

She left Briya in a stall next to Cara and across from Vesuvius, the black horse snorting loudly and swiveling is ears. He clearly liked the view of his potential ‘friend.’ Esmeralda didn’t want her horse to take with a foal though, more eager to ride and feel free rather than constricted by new life despite how darling a baby horse would be.

Claude hadn’t said a word, simply standing back and watching Esmeralda interact with her new world. When he felt the time was right he cleared his throat and limped towards her, careful to give the woman her space. “Would you care to join me for lunch? Eldred mentioned to me that some new wine has arrived.”

Esmeralda curled his lip in disdain for a few seconds, debating if she wanted to dine with Lucifer himself. Her stomach rumbled and finally she was won over by hunger and the tiny sense that Claude could be gentle towards someone, even if it was just horses. Someone who abused animals was evil through and through. 

“I’ll accept on the condition you do not touch me whatsoever.”

“I’ll do as I like,” Claude growled back, although he wavered slightly under her fierce gaze. “When we are wed, you will be mine entirely. Until that day I will allow you to be chaste. That is the sign of a good woman, after all.”

Esmeralda felt her blood boil, spitting like a cat who had had water doused on it. “Forget it, I don’t want to eat anywhere near you. Such a misogynistic man! Take me back to the little jail cell you claim is a room and leave me be.”

Claude’s gaze showed how much he regretted what he had said, but the man steeled himself to the emotions soon after. 

“Very well, witch. Eldred!” he called, his loyal guard appearing at the entrance of the stable. “Take Esmeralda back to her quarters. I need to tend to Vesuvius.”

“Yes Sir!” 

Eldred motioned for Esmeralda to follow him, the woman doing so right away. She didn’t want to be in Claude’s presence anymore. Not a word was spoken to Eldred until they were back inside the Palace of Justice and walking up the stairs. 

“Why does he say such cruel things, Eldred?” she asked, voice quiet and almost a whisper. Eldred’s face was a concerned frown, his thick eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“He doesn’t know the emotions he is encountering anymore. He knows wrath and hate well. Caring and affection are foreign.”

“Well he needs to learn or else he’ll never have anyone care about him,” Esmeralda said briskly, standing outside the door to her cage as Eldred unlocked it for her.

The hulking man pushed the door open and gestured for her to step inside. 

“Maybe you can teach him?” he asked, leaving Esmeralda to think about such a prospect as he closed the door behind him and locked it with a loud click.


End file.
